


Dining Out, Dining In

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 05:24:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys try to eat. And then they do something else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dining Out, Dining In

Disclaimer:  I do not own any  
of the characters here depicted. They belong to someone  else. I am  
not earning any money for said depiction.

(With thanks to Sabrina, who kindly corrected my extremely questionable Italian)   
  

Dining Out, Dining In  


by

Fortuita James

  Blair's eyes swung automatically to the elegant cream-coloured menu in the window. Tortillas, chummichunga, tamale bedded fire-grills. Physical memory sent shivers over his tastebuds. He almost reached out for the door handle, but saw Jim's indulgent look and stopped himself. 

  This was no time for an experiment in sentinel taste, and if they didn't experiment, Jim would have to eat bread. He turned away, firmly ignoring the pictures of steamy chicken his wistful subconscious was sending him. 

  Jim protested, obviously aware of Blair's inclination. 

  "You want Mexican, Chief? We can have Mexican." 

  "I can have Mexican," he corrected. "You can't. And," he winked, "I'm prepared to sacrifice fresh flour tortillas and corn bread for you. Only for you, mind." 

  "I'm so flattered." 

  They continued their slow stroll down the street, their arms brushing together comfortably. Blair occasionally lifted mischievous eyes to Jim's and made low voiced comments about the patrons of the nearby restaurants. 

  They were approaching the end of the block when Blair came to a sudden stop, his heart racing. 

  "Oh, man," Jim heard, before his guide slowly turned back to look in the restaurant window. "Oh man," again, even quieter. Blair's breath had quickened, his eyes had dilated and he was salivating heavily. He swallowed slowly, and Jim zoomed in on the motion of his throat. *His* breath quickened, and his heart began to race. 

  "Oh man, Jim, we have *got* to go in here." His voice was gruff. 

  Jim was too far gone to care. 

  "No." And he grabbed Blair's arm, starting to drag him back up the street. 

  "No?" he squawked, stumbling along at speed. Jim declined to answer, walking even faster. 

  Blair kept up a confused monologue, but Jim tuned him out, focussing solely on getting to the truck and driving home. 

  When he finally tuned back in, just outside the door of the loft, Blair had reached a state of panic. He was vacillating between guilt with a dose of terror, and concern for Jim's well being. 

 As Jim pulled him inside the door, he muttered, "Man, what'd I do?" He began to ask another question, but his voice was cut of by the judicious application of a pair of lips. 

  When Jim allowed him to breathe, he was primed for another tirade. He only got out a whiny "Jim, I'm hungry," before the possibility of speech was again removed. 

  This time when he was permitted to breathe, he was too stunned by his position flat against the door, jeans and underpants around his ankles, to say anything at all. 

 When Jim dropped to his knees and started licking at his hardening cock he lost the desire to say anything. His heart raced, his breath quickened, his eyes dilated, and he was salivating heavily. 

  Jim started working his mouth over the length of Blair's cock, and he found his voice again. He didn't find any degree of coherency, but his moaning suited the sentinel better than his earlier panic anyway. 

  Blair pounded his hands on the door as he arched into that wet heat, his orgasm almost taking him by surprise. His mind was somewhere back in the truck, still. 

  Jim quite happily supported him around the waist as his limbs drooped everywhere.  Sitting on the couch, his pants still around his ankles and still supported by Jim's arm, Blair's mental capacity began to return. 

  "Not that it wasn't a monumental blow job, babe, but what was it in aid of? I thought we were going out for dinner." 

  "We were. I just realised what I wanted wouldn't be on the menu." 

  "Oh. Okay. But don't think this gets you out of taking me back to that Italian for the penne ai gambaretti e melanzane." 

  "You can't have it, Chief." 

  "Why not?" he looked hurt. 

  "I can't handle your reaction to it. We wouldn't be in the restaurant long enough for you to finish."   
  

End 

Feedback can be sent to Fortuita James at: fortuita@hotmail.com. You can also visit her websit at: <http://www.geocities.com/TelevisionCity/Stage/2326/>


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